


I've Been On A Long Road

by TriviasGhost



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Super Powereds - Drew Hayes
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Burns, Chad I'm looking at you, Dimension Travel, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Touch-Starved, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, accidental adoption
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23352415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriviasGhost/pseuds/TriviasGhost
Summary: Two metahuman boys fall into Bruce's life. Literally. One is more emotionally stunted than all of the Waynes combined. The other is the most loving child you will ever meet, but doesn't know how to operate a microwave. All they want is to go home. Bruce doesn't know how to tell them that going home isn't possible.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Chad Taylor, Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne & Vince Reynolds, Cassandra Cain & Bruce Wayne, Chad Taylor & Vince Reynolds, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne
Comments: 36
Kudos: 72





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for dropping in! This is an idea I've been playing with for a while, but I only started writing it when the quarantine started. Speaking of which, I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy. 
> 
> Super Powereds is one of my favorite book series, but it's not super well known yet. If you like this, or even if you don't, you really should take a look at it. 
> 
> The title is from the song Champion by Barns Courtney. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vince and Chad meet each other.

When Vince opened his eyes, he couldn’t see anything. He blinked a couple times, even waved a hand in front of his face. Nothing. He wrapped his arms around himself. A chill had saturated his bones and settled in his chest. It was uncomfortable, but the cold had nothing on that night in New York two winters ago, when his father couldn't find a shelter. He reached an arm out to his left, where his father would normally be asleep next to the campfire. Then the memories flooded back to him. The explosion, the train car bursting into flames. His screams. That had only been two weeks ago.

When his hand found smooth concrete, he bolted upright. He definitely remembered falling asleep in the woods last night. "What the hell?"

"Hello," An unfamiliar voice answered, "What’s your name?" The voice was too high to be an adult man, but lower than Vince’s. Another boy. 

“I’m Vince. Who are you?” 

"I’m Chad. We're the only ones in here." 

Vince’s heart thudded. He took a deep breath, focusing on the air entering him through his nose, brushing the back of his throat, and filling his lungs. If he got too worked up, he could kill both of them by accident—which was never a prospect that helped calm him down. He took another breath. Then slowly exhaled. Then another deep breath. Then an exhale.

There was some scuffling, then Vince felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped, and the other boy was much closer when he said, “It’s me. I assume you can’t see in here.”

“Too dark. Can you?”

“A little. I’m a Super,” Chad said. A Super. Those were pretty rare. Supers were people born with a superhuman ability, who could also _control_ their ability. There were plenty of people who were born with an ability they couldn’t control, but Supers were unique. Night vision was a pretty cool power. It wasn’t destructive, but it could still be used to help people. Chad continued, “We’re in the back of a large closet. There are a lot of shelves and cleaning supplies between us and the door, but I can guide you through them.” 

Chad dropped his hand. Vince jumped when the boy grabbed his hand instead, guiding it to rest Chad’s shoulder. “Hey, Chad,” Vince started, as Chad helped him to his feet.

“Yes?”

“Do you know how we got here?”

The silence following his question filled the room in the same way it fills the pauses of a funeral eulogy. Vince took another deep breath. 

“I’m not sure. I think someone might have…taken us, ” Chad eventually answered. “But a lot of people will be looking for me. Heroes.” Where Vince expected his words to be dripping with pride, uncertainty, or even humility, Chad spoke without emotion. Vince was glad Chad had someone looking for him, even if it reminded him he didn't. The silence returned.

Vince snatched his hand away from Chad a split second before a bolt of electricity shot out of it. For a moment, the whole room was lit up. Chad jumped back, blue eyes narrowed at Vince. The electricity connected with one of the metal shelves, and the room was plunged into darkness again. Vince took a rigid step backwards, “Shit, I’m so sorry—”

“You’re a Powered.” 

A deep breath. In through his nose, the back of his throat, his lungs. Out. Repeat. Yes, Vince was one of the unfortunate human beings who couldn’t control their ability. Dangers to themselves and society. Embarrassments. He'd had more control with his father around, but since the incident…well, his episodes had been steadily worsening. Vince was glad he couldn’t see the taller boy’s face anymore. “I really am sorry, I—”

“It’s okay,” Chad interrupted again, “My ability allows me to heal. Don’t worry about hurting me.” 

With Chad a few feet away now, the darkness was choking Vince. It wrapped itself around him as if to prove how helpless he was without the person he’d almost just electrocuted. “It doesn’t matter if you can heal if I kill you first.”

Chad stepped around Vince and put his hands on the shorter boy’s shoulders, “I’ll guide you from here. Problem solved.”

Chad wasn’t getting it. Vince had no control over his ability. None. He wasn’t born with the capability to even _learn_ how to control it. He could kill Chad, or himself, or both at any moment. Despite himself, Vince _was_ grateful for Chad's hands on his shoulders. The contact grounded him, reminded him he wasn’t alone. In through his nose, the back of his throat, his lungs. Out. Repeat. 

“Two steps forward,” Chad said.

Vince took two steps forward. 

“One step to your right.” 

Vince took one step to his right.

“Step over the bucket. It’s knee-high.”

A nebulous amount of time passed by the time they reached the other wall. Chad let go of Vince’s shoulders, leaving him alone again. The taller boy only stepped a few inches away, but for Vince it might as well have been across the room. There was a rattling noise as Chad tried the door handle. “It’s locked.”

Neither of them acknowledged the implications of a locked door. In through his nose, the back of his throat, his lungs. Out. Repeat. Vince reached out and groped for the door handle until his hand wrapped around the cold metal. He ran his fingers over the lock. It felt like a cheap lock. “I might be able to pick this, but I would need tools. Do you see anything long and really thin?”

“It would probably be faster if I picked it, because I’m the one who can see right now,” Chad said, “But we don’t have to. I can break it down.”

Vince didn’t let go of the door handle. Something solid in his hands was better than drifting in the darkness alone. He raised his eyebrows in Chad’s general direction, “You have night vision. I don’t think you can have super strength too.”

“I don’t have either. My ability is—” Chad cut himself off.

“Chad?” Vince asked, door handle digging into his hand with how tight he was gripping it. 

Chad grabbed Vince, shoving the Powered boy behind him protectively. He kept one hand on Vince’s arm. Vince shifted his feet into one of the stances that his father had drilled into him and whispered, “What’s wrong?”

“ _Vince_ , my dear boy,” A man's slow, leathery voice said. He was standing directly in front of them. Vince was surprised the whole room couldn’t hear his heart pounding against his ribcage. Blood rushed to his ears, and he barely caught the man’s next sentence, “How ironic that Chad feels the need to protect _you_ , of all people.”

“You’re a teleporter,” Chad raised his fists, “You kidnapped us.”

“ _Yes_ ,” the man drawled, “I haven't tried this particular scenario before. Forgive the poor accommodations.”

Chad shifted, not letting go of Vince, and a scuffling sound filled the closet. Vince was pretty sure Chad threw a kick at the man, but it didn’t make contact. 

“Naughty, naughty, Mr. Taylor. Daddy dearest would be so disappointed in you. Oh, wait...”

Vince’s hands curled into fists. This man had no right to dredge up and mock Chad’s trauma, whatever it may be. Who the hell did he think he was?

“You clearly know who we are,” Chad stated, his voice so calm and devoid of emotion that it jarred Vince, “Who are you?” 

“Nexus. I don't believe name means nothing to you or anyone else in this one, though. Now, I think it’s time to get the show moving.”

There was a crackle of electricity, the man let out a hiss of pain, and the floor fell out from under them.

When Vince opened his eyes again, he was in a cave. In a bizarre turn of events, the cave was much lighter than the closet.


	2. Little Child, Be Not Afraid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thank you to those of you who left kudos and subscribed. Just so you know, these chapters are minimally edited first drafts, and they are not beta read. If you catch something or have any suggestions, feel free to let me know. Enjoy!

"Little child, be not afraid,

The rain pounds harsh against the glass,

Like an unwanted stranger,

There is no danger,

I am here tonight."

\- Vienna Teng, "Lullaby for A Stormy Night"

Bruce was tired. Tonight's patrol had been slow, but that was only because they'd spent the past week cleaning up after the latest Arkham breakout. The gangs were crawling into their holes and licking their wounds. Now, he was struggling to keep his eyes open while his second youngest son explained something important to him. 

"Bruce, are you even listening to me?" Tim asked, shifting his attention from the computer to his father.

"Yes," Bruce said, "There have been boom tubes opening up sporadically around Gotham for the past week. Something to do with the breakout, probably." He was proud he managed to remember that much. He really needed a nap. 

"No _ , _ " Tim sighed. Bruce raised an eyebrow. He was pretty sure that's what he heard. "I said there are pockets of interdimensional energy that have been appearing and disappearing all week." 

"That's what I said."

"No," Tim pinched his nose, "People travel through boomtubes. Surveillance on the places the energy pockets appear doesn't show anything. No flashy lights, no one walking in from a different dimension. The only reason we know about them is because Babs picked them up with one of her scanners. They usually appear in crowded areas, and no one notices them." 

Bruce stared at the screen showing a map of all the places the pockets had been detected. It took him a moment before he processed any of the information in front of him. Eventually, he noticed a pattern. "Those are all places we made arrests this week." 

Tim pinched the bridge of his nose, "I said that five minutes ago." 

"Can this wait until tomorrow?" Bruce asked, "You need to sleep. You haven't slept in two days."

"Neither have you," his son countered.

Bruce smirked, "Maybe that’s the point." 

Tim looked back at the map and its accompanying charts and frowned. "Yeah. There's been no indication of a direct threat. You can worry about them tomorrow. Go to bed. I'm just going to look through a couple more files-"

"Nope," Bruce ruffled his son’s hair, "You're going to bed. Now. Sign out of the computer." 

"But-" 

"No buts. Bedtime. Like you said, it can wait until tomorrow." 

On the other side of the cave, Dick was carrying a pajama-clad Damian towards the stairs, while the boy snored on his shoulder. Bruce shot him a grateful smile. Dick nodded back, "I'm going to take him to bed, and then I'm going to head home."

"Why don't you crash here? It's late," Bruce said. He wanted to keep his kids as close as possible after the nightmare week they all endured.

"I'll think about it," Dick said evasively, then disappeared up the stairs with his younger brother. 

Bruce let out a sigh. He turned to Tim, "You're turn."

Tim snorted, but pushed himself up from the chair and followed his brothers up the stairs with no further argument.

That only left Bruce and Jason. Alfred and Cass had gone to bed a long time ago. Jason swung a leg over his bike, "See you later, old man."

"Please stay, Jason, just for the night?" Bruce asked, knowing it was futile but not wanting to give up without trying.

"That might work for Goldie-" A burst of movement near the training mats caught both of their attention. Bruce pulled his cowl over his head and drew two batarangs, and Jason reached for his pistol. "What the fuck?" Jason said.

"Language,” Bruce corrected automatically, then growled, “How did you get in here?"

There were three people on the training mats. Two boys limp on the floor, and a man standing over them, grimacing and clutching his hand to his chest. His gaze drifted lackadaisically around the batcave until it landed on Bruce, which prompted a soft grin. The expression was almost as unnerving as the Joker’s, not because the expression itself was unnatural, but because of his eyes. The man’s eyes mimicked a kaleidoscope, constantly fracturing and switching colors. They drifted slightly, not remaining completely focused on Bruce. Other than his eyes, he was completely forgettable. He had brown hair, and he was wearing simple clothes. “Hello, Batman,” His weathered voice filled the cave, “I just wanted to perform a small experiment. This you will not be seeing me again.” His grin widened, and he...disappeared. One moment he was there, the next he just wasn’t.

“What the fuck?” Jason repeated, staring at the children.

“Language.” Bruce also stared at the bodies on the mat. They were two boys. One was tall for his age, with perfectly styled blonde hair. He was the picture of peak physical health, aside from the unconscious part. The other boy was scrawnier, little more than skin, bones, and a layer of lean muscle. His clothes were sun bleached and full of holes, and the pants were a size too small. What stood out was his hair. It fell over his face in long,  _ silver _ strands. Not grey, or white. Silver. 

Jason holstered his pistol. He took an aborted step towards the kids, then looked back at his father in a rare gesture of deference. “You don’t have a protocol for this, do you?”

“Not yet,” Bruce returned the batarangs to his belt, looking sideways at his second oldest, “Any suggestions?”

“Make sure they’re alive?”

That was a solid start. If they were stable, they would move them to the medbay and go wake up Alfred. How was one supposed to react when a man with rainbow eyes teleported unconscious kids in their secret vigilante lair? Bruce started towards the kids, gesturing for Jason to follow, “Help me.”

He knelt next to the blonde. “Hey,” Bruce said loudly, “Can you hear me?” 

He wasn’t expecting a response, but it was still disheartening when the child continued to lay unconscious. Trying a new tactic, Bruce pinched his arm hard. That got a reaction. Bruce let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding when the blonde boy’s eyes shot open, revealing deep blue irises. They locked onto Bruce’s face. “Who are you?” The boy asked, propping himself up on his elbows and scooting a few feet back.

“I’m Batman,” Bruce said evenly, “I know you have a lot of questions; so do I. But first, is there anything you know that can help your friend?” 

Jason looked up expectantly from where he was still assessing the silver haired boy. The blonde kid stole a split second glance at his unconscious counterpart, then returned his attention to Bruce. He watched him for a moment longer, something in his eyes. Not panic or indecision, just careful deliberation. Then all emotion was dropped, and he turned into unreadable steel. “He was electrocuted." 

"Fuck," Jason muttered, “B, can you get the heart monitor?” He’d already made sure the kid wasn’t in cardiac arrest, and his pulse and breathing were normal for now, but electricity could screw up important stuff if it was strong enough. 

“I’ll be right back,” Bruce said to the boy who was awake. He jogged over to the medbay, and snatched the defibrillator off of one of the tables.

While he was waiting, Jason pulled out a pen light and checked the kid’s dilation. When that was normal, he pulled out a knife and started cutting the boy’s raggedy shirt away. When Bruce returned and placed the monitor/defibrillator next to Jason, his son was sitting back, staring at the body in front of him. Bruce followed his gaze and took a sharp breath. 

The silver haired boy’s chest and arms were littered in scars. Burns scars mostly, ranging from angry pink and waxy white. There was also the occasional thin white line healed without stitches. The quantity and severity of the injuries rivaled Bruce’s. 

“Fuck,” Jason said.

“Attach the monitor,” Bruce instructed. He pulled out his phone, dialed Dick, and put the phone to his ear. 

It rang three times before his eldest son picked up, “Hey, Tim and Damian are in bed. What’s up?”

“Go wake up Agent A.” There was a pause, a silence wherein Bruce knew Dick was mentally running through a list of potential emergencies that would warrant waking Alfred. The soft thump of footsteps in the background told Bruce his son was actually running as well. 

“Is everyone alright?”

“Hood and I are fine. We’ve just had some unexpected company,” Bruce said, as if someone had invited themselves over for dinner, not teleported into one of the most secure facilities on the planet, “Wear a mask.”

“A kid?” Dick asked, because of course he recognized the restrained tone Batman used around scared children, “We’ll be down in a few moments. Is anybody dying?”  
“Unclear.” The blonde kid looked up at Bruce, his face still eerily blank, but attentive. Bruce briefly wondered if he could hear the conversation. It was possible he was a meta, or that they were both metas. It would certainly explain the silver hair. Maybe even the abuse.

“We’ll be there ASAP,” Dick said, and the phone clicked as he hung up. Bruce pocketed the phone. 

He kneeled on the silver haired boy’s other side and began looking for fresh burns. Electrical burns. If they could figure out the path the electricity took, it might tell them what’s wrong. The blonde haired kid watched them work like a statue. 

Bruce uncurled the unconscious boy’s right hand. The skin on his palm was gouged away, charred around the edges in some places. In the center, the uncovered flesh was angry red and dotted with white blisters. “I found the entry point,” Bruce announced as Jason finished setting up the heart monitor.

“His heart is still fine,” his son glanced at the monitor, then over at hand Bruce was keeping uncurled, “That doesn’t look good.”

Bruce agreed. The potential long term issues that could be caused by electrocution this serious were inumerable. “Check his feet for exit wounds,” he instructed.

Jason complied, shifting over to the boy’s feet. He carefully untied both of the boy’s worn sneakers, and pulled them off. His socks were still on, but Jason could already tell that the right foot was where he was going to find what he was looking for. He gently peeled the sock off, revealing the massive burn, charred skin around the edges and cooked skin in the middle. 

The Red Hood sat back, “Found it.” 

“Nightwing informed me there was a child in the cave. He didn’t mention there were two,” Alfred appeared in blue silk pajamas, bringing with him a calming presence and Nightwing.

“I didn’t know,” Dick said. He wore sweatpants, hoodie, and socks, and a Nightwing mask affixed to his face. It looked ridiculous, but no one particularly cared at the moment.

“Is he safe to move?” Alfred asked, standing behind Bruce and gazing down at the unconscious boy. 

“Yeah,” Jason said.

“In that case, I would greatly appreciate it if you moved him to the medical bay, so that I can look him over myself, and see what I can do about those burns.”

It was an order, not a request. Bruce responded to Alfred’s orders as instinctively as his own children responded to him. He leaned down and lifted the boy into his arms, nodding for Jason to pick up the monitor. Jason complied, and they walked together to the medbay. Alfred followed closely.

\-----

Dick turned to the blonde kid who was still propped up on his elbow a few feet away. The boy’s eyes tracked Bruce and Silver with an unreadable expression. “Hey, I’m Nightwing. What’s your name?”

The boy ignored Dick until Batman had disappeared behind a curtain. The eldest Wayne child waited patiently until the boy was ready to speak. He didn’t have to wait long. As soon as Batman disappeared behind the curtain that divided the medbay from the rest of the cave, the boy pushed himself into a sitting position, “I’m Chad."

"Nice to meet you. Are you hurt, Chad?" Nightwing wasn't sure what had happened, but it was pretty clear that this kid was brushed off as a secondary concern in light of his friend’s current situation. He wouldn’t be surprised if Bruce had stopped worrying about the boy after he woke up.

“No, I recover from injuries quickly.”

“Oh,” Dick said. Chad was a metahuman. He stored that information away for later. “You  _ were _ injured, though?”

“Just a light burn on my arm, nothing serious.”

“Right. We’ll have it looked at later, just in case.” Chad just nodded in agreement. His unnaturally blank expression worried Dick. Maybe Chad hurt his brain and didn’t know it. Electricity could do a lot of damage under the surface. “Is it okay if I ask how you got hurt?”

“Vince and I woke up together in a janitorial closet, and we were about to escape when the teleporter appeared. Vince’s ability activated right before the teleporter made the jump here. I believe he is an electricity manipulator.”

Dick blinked at the (short) rollercoaster of an explanation. Waking up in closets? Teleporters and escape attempts? That sounded like a kidnapping, and Dick felt like he’d been privy to enough kidnappings to be well versed on the subject. Vince must have been Silver’s name, and it seemed he was a metahuman like Chad. Except, instead of having a nice healing factor, he shot electricity. It also sounded like the two boys hadn’t known each other until recently. Extremely recently. 

Dick had so many questions. Why did the kidnapper bring them  _ here _ ? How did the kidnapper know the Batcave’s location? A little voice in the back of Dick’s head told him something was off, that there was more to the picture that he couldn’t see. He ended up asking probably the least important question, “Why did Vince’s electricity hurt him?”

“He cannot control it. He’s a Powered.”

Nightwing was surprised that Chad had an answer, even if it was one Dick didn’t understand. “I don’t know what that means.”

Chad’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, breaking his stone face. “You don’t know what a Powered is?” 

Dick felt like he’d just failed some test that neither of them knew he was taking it in the first place. He forced a smile, “Can you explain it to me?”

Chad did not speak for a moment, he just stared at Dick with his narrowed eyes. “Yeah…Powereds are the people who cannot control their ability. Supers are the ones who can control them, like me. Powereds are dangerous. Vince seems like a nice one, though.” 

The little voice started screaming. Sure, Chad was a little strange, but Dick didn’t think he was outright crazy. The crazies usually didn’t start this young. Yet, Chad still watched him in clear confusion because Dick didn’t already know the foreign terms. 

The  _ foreign _ terms.

“Chad, do you recognize me at all?” Nightwing asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Chad shook his head.

“Do you recognize Batman?”

Chad shook his head again, and Dick’s stomach sank. Nightwing had never met a kid worldwide who didn’t know who Batman was. There were very few situations that could result in a knowledge gap that wide, and none of them were pleasant. His first guess, given the evidence before him, was a dimension jump. Dick swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Nightwing?" Chad asked after a moment.

"Sorry," Dick said, his smile dropping into something closer to a grimace as he looked at the boy who had been interdimensionally kidnapped. "Alright. I guess introductions are in order. Um, Batman is a hero. We’re all heroes. The guy in the helmet is Red Hood, and the older man is Agent A. We protect Gotham City, New Jersey. Any questions?”

Chad didn’t get a chance to answer. Batman stepped out from behind the curtain and called over, “Nightwing, Agent A would like to look over…” He trailed off, gesturing at the kid.

“Chad,” Dick provided. He glanced at the boy, “Sorry. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Chad said, and pushed himself into a standing position. “I am already healed, though.”

Bruce shot Dick a quizzical look, which Dick responded to by signing, _ “Later,”  _ in ASL behind Chad’s back. “Agent A is just going to double check.”

Dick led Chad over to the curtain, and pulled it aside to let the boy pass. He planned to follow the boy into the medbay, until Bruce placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Nightwing grit his teeth. He didn’t want to leave the boy alone now that he knew the extent of the situation. He took a deep breath. Alfred would take care of him. Dick could also see Vince resting on a bed in the back, IV snaking out of his arm. Jason sat next to him with a tight jaw. His helmet rested at the foot of his chair. Chad would be fine. 

He turned to Bruce and asked in a low tone, “What?”

“We need to talk. Upstairs.”

Dick followed his adoptive father across the cave and up into the main house. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but before he could say anything, Bruce lifted a finger to his lips. It wasn’t until the clock in Bruce’s office sealed completely that Bruce nodded for Dick to speak. “Why the sound proofing? We could have talked on the other side of the cave without them hearing.”

“If Chad is able to heal himself, we can’t be sure he doesn’t have other powers as well,” Bruce answered, pulling his cowl down, “And I would rather not have eavesdroppers for this conversation.” He shot his son a weary smile, and Dick was reminded that his father hadn’t slept in two days. 

He stuffed his hands in his sweatshirt pocket, “What did you want to talk about?”

“I want to know what you learned about them, starting with who hurt them,” the smile was gone.

“The kid’s name is Vince. And nobody hurt him, physically,” Dick said, then remembered the pattern of scars covering the boy’s chest, “At least this time. He’s a metahuman as well. Chad thinks he can manipulate electricity, and that Vince lost control and hurt himself by accident. And—” Dick paused, not sure how to articulate this point. He decided to just come out and say it, “They’re from a different dimension.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. 

Dick ignored him and continued with his explanation, “Chad doesn’t know who Batman is. Or Nightwing, or any of us. He had these weird names for people who could control their powers and couldn’t, and he was genuinely confused that I didn’t know them too. And, he told me he was brought here by a teleporter.”  
“Yes. The teleporter appeared in the cave with the boys at his feet, then left.”

“That asshole kidnapped them. They were stuck in a closet and trying to escape when the guy showed up again. I just don’t know how the teleporter knew where the batcave was if he was from an alternate dimension.”

Bruce took a second to process the information. He stared at the clock as the second hand ticked by and let his tired brain put together all the puzzle pieces before him. Eventually, he spoke again, “Tim said there have been pockets of dimensional energy appearing all over Gotham this week. I’m confident it was the teleporter spying on us. We didn’t scan the cave for the pockets, but I bet if we did, it’d be full of them.”

“Do we go looking for him? It would be pretty hard to find someone who could hop dimensions at will.”

Bruce wiped a hand over his face and sighed, “No. You’re correct, we won’t be able to find him. He isn’t the priority.”

“Then what is?” Dick asked.

“The boys are going to need somewhere to recover,” Bruce said, and as Dick opened his mouth to speak, he added, “Just until we can figure out how to get them home.”

“Bruce—”

“I’ve decided, Dick.”

And that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it. Lot's of talking in this one, but now at least a few characters have an idea of what's going on. If you enjoyed it, leave a comment telling me what your favorite part was.


	3. Still Keep Pleasant Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments on the last chapter, and to all of you guys who subscribed. This chapter ended up being longer than I expected, sorry.  
> I hope you enjoy it!

Jason rested in a chair by the kid’s bed, elbows on the armrests and chin in his palm. Silver hadn’t shown any signs of waking during the entire time Alfred looked him over, even when they inserted the IV or wrapped his foot and hand in a burn dressing and a healthy amount of gauze and white bandages.

Over the past few minutes, a nugget of worry had begun to gnaw on Jason’s gut. Maybe it was the scars, or possibly the sorry state of the boy’s clothes, but something about the kid disturbed a viscerally protective part of Jason. A part of him that was usually reserved for child victims he met as Red Hood. He supposed Silver  _ was  _ a child victim he met as Red Hood, but saving a kid on the streets and having one drop into your base of operations were different. There was a personal responsibility here. 

. His eyes drifted back to the scars again. There were so many of them, and Jason didn’t want to imagine how they came to be, but he couldn’t stop himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head. 

When he reopened them, he looked across the medbay to where Alfred was prodding at the blonde kid, who took the examination with a blank face. Dissociation, Jason thought, but the hoy was answering all of Alfred’s questions coherently, so maybe he was wrong. Whatever the reason for the face, it bothered Jason almost as much as Silver’s scars. Blank faces were often a different type of scar. 

Alfred finished up the examination, and directed the boy to wait where he was, which was perched on the side of another bed. The butler left the medbay, curtain swishing behind him. Blondie glanced over, blue eyes resting briefly on Jason, then moving on to Silver. He stared at the unconscious boy’s chest in the same way Jason had been trying not to, blank expression never wavering. After a few moments, he glanced back up at Jason. “I’m Chad.”

“Red Hood,” Jason offered with a small smile. 

Chad simply nodded, and looked back at Silver. He must not have known about the scars until Jason took the boy’s shirt off. Chad didn’t react to the horrible sight outwardly, but Jason worried what was happening under the surface.

Chad spun around seconds before the curtain brushed to the side again. Batman walked through, closely followed by Nightwing. They were both silent, frowning slightly. Jason would bet they had just been in an argument—such a thing wasn’t unusual between them—except when Bruce spoke, he didn’t sound angry or stressed, and Dick didn’t roll his eyes with resentment. Both men were deadly serious, prompting Jason to sit up straighter in his seat. “Chad, do you know what the multiverse theory is?” Bruce asked. 

Jason glanced at Dick, cocking his head. Dick gave him a minute nod. 

“Yes,” the boy answered, “I fail to see the relevance.”

“Chad,” Dick started, softer than Bruce, because even after all this time he was still the perfect Robin, the one who could comfort victims when Batman could not. He didn’t go on, though, because Chad seemed to have already reached the conclusion they wanted him to. 

“I see,” the boy said stiffly, “We are in an alternate dimension. Am I correct?”

Batman tugged off his cowl, morphing once again into the tired man beneath it. Dick followed suit, peeling his mask off. When Bruce spoke, the severity of his tone was still strong, but not quite as sharp now that he was Bruce and not Batman, “Unfortunately, you are. I can assure you, I will do everything in my power to return you and Vince home, but it will probably take some time. You can stay with me until then. My name is Bruce Wayne. These are my sons Dick and Jason, and the man you met earlier was Alfred.”

Chad watched Bruce for a long time, never taking his eyes off of him. Jason slowly reached up and peeled his own domino off. There was no point in wearing it now that Bruce had revealed his identity. Vince must have been Silver’s name, who was still blissfully unaware of the situation he’d been dropped into. Damn. Alternate dimensions  _ sucked _ , it must have sucked a hundred times over to be thrust into one when you were that young. These kids were going to need some hardcore therapy. 

Jason knew that Bruce was up for the challenge though. The man had grown leaps and bounds while raising Tim, Cass, and Damian. Dick and Jason were both still a little bitter that they missed out on the protective father figure he was today, but credit where credit was due, Bruce was trying his damndest to make it up to them.

Chad had been silent a long time, staring at Bruce. Dick stepped forward and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, “Hey, talk to me, buddy. What are you feeling?”

“I turned them off,” The boy said flatly, shifting to look Dick straight in the eyes. 

Dick tilted his head the way he did when he was confused, “Turned what off?”

“My feelings. Or at least, some of my hormone receptors.”

Jason blinked. He turned off his _ what  _ now? Bruce's brow furrowed with concern, but Dick didn’t skip a damn beat. “That’s pretty interesting, kiddo. How’d you do that?”

"My ability allows me to control every part of my body down the molecule. Usually I just keep the hormones at a low level, but it was becoming difficult to regulate, so I simply turned the receptors off." 

Well. That explained the blank face and dead tone all night. If he really had not been processing any of his emotions this whole time, turning them back on would be one hell of a system shock. Jason wanted words with whoever taught this kid that this was an okay coping mechanism.

“That’s interesting,” Dick said, then glanced back at Bruce for backup. 

Bruce took the hint and stepped in, "I’d like to hear more about that later, Chad. Right now, though, you must be tired—”

The room’s attention snapped to the other side of the room, where Vince had suddenly gasped and scrambled into a sitting position. The boy heaved in deep breaths, eyes swinging around the room wildly, “What—What happened?”

Jason slowly stood from his seat, and lifted his hands to show he meant no harm, “You were electrocuted, but you’re safe now. I’m Jason, that’s Dick, and Bruce over there, and Chad. Do you remember Chad?”

Vince looked to the other side of the room where the other boy was watching him carefully. “Chad. Yeah. We were in a closet. There was a man-" He paused and closed his eyes, taking long, deep breaths.

"You're safe," Jason said, prompting the kid to reopen his eyes to verify the man's words, "He's not here anymore."

Vince nodded as he processed the information. He looked at Jason, this time with significantly less panic, "Where are we?"

Chad started speaking before anybody else had the chance, "The man brought us to an alternate dimension. These heroes have agreed to keep us safe until they can return us to our own.”

“Alternate…I don't understand. Is that even possible?”

Well, if Chad was going to be blunt, Jason might as well roll with it, “Yeah. It’s a real shitty situation, but it can happen. But like I said, you’re safe here. No one is going to hurt you.”

On the other side of the room, Bruce let out a sigh and muttered, "Language, Jason."

Vince opened his mouth to answer, but he didn’t get the chance. The light bulb above him shattered, and the cave was plunged into darkness. “I’m sorry!” Vince rushed out through the shadows before the vigilantes could react, “I'll leave. Just show me the way out, and I’ll go.”

Bruce and Jason were both still in uniform, and therefore had easy access to flashlights. Dick might not have had a flashlight on him, but he was familiar enough with the cave to know where to get one quickly. All three men were flicking on their lights by the time Vince had finished talking. “Vince,” Bruce said slowly, “Are you okay?”

“What?”

Jason turned his flashlight on Vince to inspect him. There were no cuts, at least none that Jason could see, but the boy was absolutely covered in broken glass. He was stock still, his arms lifted to the side to keep the glass from falling off of them. 

Jason set into action, carefully removing each shard and dropping it into the waste bin. They could deal with emptying that later. Bruce joined him, and he actually remembered to clear off the bed as well as the child. Vince remained frozen through the whole operation, occasionally muttering apologies. When Bruce dropped the last piece into the waste bin, Vince shifted as if to stand up, “I can go now. Just show me the exit.”

Bruce put his hands on the boy’s shoulders and gently moved him back into place. He really should be moved to a different bed—this one needed to be vacuumed and have the sheets changed—but first he needed to keep the boy from standing up on his injured foot, “We aren’t going to kick you out. You’re injured, Vince, you need to rest. The light bulb is not your fault.”

“It’s okay, I can leave. Really, I’ll be fine. You don’t have to feel guilty or anything.”

“Kid,” Jason shined his flashlight directly in Vince’s face, causing the silver-haired boy to squint and hold an arm up to block the light, “We said you’re safe here. We’re not kicking you out, especially not over a broken light bulb. I would love it if you told us how you could possibly be responsible, though.”

Vince watched at him for a couple seconds with narrowed blue eyes. Jason waited, not lowering the light until the boy began to speak, “I’m an energy absorber. I absorb fire and electricity. Except I can’t control when I absorb or release the energy, or how much.” 

“Did you drain the electricity from the cave’s entire system?” Bruce asked, slightly curious.

"Maybe," Vince said quietly, "I can't really tell. I'm sorry." 

Nobody spoke for a few moments. Eventually, Bruce turned to leave the medbay, “There is no need for apologies, Vince. I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’m going to turn the power back on.”

Vince shifted uncomfortably, but didn’t say anything. Both boys watched Bruce go in silence. When he was gone, Dick set himself down in the chair by Chad’s bed with a sigh, flashlight point at the floor. 

Jason put his flashlight in his mouth, and scooped the silver-haired boy into his arms. Vince let out a little yelp and clung onto Jason’s neck. “What are you doing?”

Jason shook his head, “Efie full.”

“Huh?” Vince asked.

“EFIE full,” Jason repeated through a mouthful of flashlight. 

Vince looked at Dick for help. 

The older brother chuckled, “He needs you to grab the IV pole. He’s moving you to a clean bed.”

“Oh.” Vince reached one arm out, keeping the other tightly wrapped around Jason’s neck, and grabbed the silver pole holding his IV bags.”

Jason carried Vince over to the bed next to Chad’s, while Vince dragged the IV pole behind them. When the boy was settled on the new bed, Jason dropped into the chair next to him and shot the kid a concerned look, “How are you feeling? Any pain?”

“I’m sore, but that’s normal. My hand and foot kind of hurt, but not that much.” Yeah, the burns had certainly  _ looked _ painful.

Jason didn't like the word ‘normal’, though. No kid should have so much experience in handling pain that it was ‘normal’. Jason and his siblings did, but with the exceptions of Damian, Cass, and himself, their pain tolerance had started with Robin. Jason realized this only left two siblings who hadn't been victims of physical abuse—not even counting the severe neglect Tim endured—and he decided to drop that train of thought. 

At least Jason’s first assumptions about the origins of the scars seemed to be wrong. Vince created them himself, albeit unwillingly. The vigilante preferred that conclusion, but not by much. The idea of a kid suffering at his own hand still made his stomach twist. 

He leaned forward and gave the kid's silver hair a tousle, “Alfred gave you some pain killers, and they should be setting in about now. Let someone know if it gets any worse.”

Vince nodded and relaxed into the pillows on the bed.

  
  


Bruce took a long breath. He pressed the call button, and lifted the phone to his ear. It dialed once, twice, then a tired voice picked up on the other side, “ _ Bruce? What’s wrong? _ ”

“Barry,” Bruce let out a tired sigh as he sat down on the chair behind his desk. It felt like the first time he’d sat down all week, “Are you available to talk?” He asked this question out of courtesy, and not because he actually wanted to know. It was nearing 2 AM in the speedster’s timezone, so Barry had plenty of time to talk right now, and he was too good of a person to hang up simply because he wanted to sleep. 

“ _ Do you even know what time it is, Bruce? Not all of us are nocturnal, _ ” He let out a heavy sigh, “ _ Did you want me to come over, or _ —”

“The phone is fine,” Bruce interrupted.

“ _ Okay, gotcha. What’s up, Bruce? _ ”

Bruce sighed. Asking for help wasn’t really his cup of tea, but he would do it for any of the kids who'd ever lived in this manor. That now included the silver-haired boy down stairs. “I need some advice on metahumans.” 

“ _ What _ ?” Barry laughed,  _ “Did Poison Ivy finally become too much for you? _ ”

“No. And don’t underestimate Ivy’s power. That’s how people like me get killed,” Bruce ground out. “I called you because you have more experience with this particular situation than—quite literally—anybody else I know, so I would appreciate it if you took this seriously.”

_ “Holy shit. Bruce, did you take in a meta-teen? _ ” 

Bruce closed his eyes, “No, not exactly. At least, they don’t call themselves metas. They’re not…from…here.”

_ “Meta- _ teens?”

“Yes.”

There was a beat of silence on the line, long enough for Barry to thoroughly puzzle out Bruce’s words. Long enough that Bruce was actually worried that Barry had decided to run to the manor after all. When Barry eventually answered, his voice was serious, “ _ Bruce. Are you planning on sending them back to their universe? _ ”

“Yes. That is the plan. I was going to ask you for help with that too, once I knew more about their home dimension. But more immediately, I need to know how to keep one from blowing up every lightbulb in the manor by accident.”

_ “I cannot believe this.” _

“Barry…”

“ _ What the hell, Bruce! How many of them did you even take? Four? Five? _ ”

“ _ Two _ . And I didn’t  _ take _ them. I have no way of entering an alternate universe on my own. They were brought here against their will.”

_ “Okay,” _ Barry answered immediately, “ _ Most meta outbursts are related to overwhelming emotions and lack of training. How old are they?” _

“Both early teens. One of them turns his emotions off when he gets overwhelmed, and I’m not sure how he’s going to react when he switches them back on. The other can’t control his power at all. According to Dick, he wasn’t born with the capacity to even learn to control his ability. He’s already electrocuted himself and sucked up all the power from the cave since he’s been here.” Technically, Vince electrocuted himself before he arrived in the cave, but Bruce still had to deal with the fallout, so it counted. 

“ _ Damn. That’s a handful. Have you tried some meditations? At least for the emotionally stunted one? _ ”

“They’ve been here an hour.”

_ “Fine. Try meditations in the next few days then. Also—least with Wally—exercise was always a solid bet. Not training exercise, but fun exercise. Sometimes if Wally gets angry, he will just go for a run.” _

Bruce’s own boys often used exercise as an outlet. Usually it was training though, and Bruce now agreed an obsession with perfection was not a healthy coping mechanism. Convincing Chad to take a break and go for a run when he got overwhelmed sounded like a good alternative.  “Okay. Exercise sounds good for Chad,” Bruce said, “Any advice for Vince?”

_ “Vince is the one who can’t control his power?” _

“Yes.”

There was another long silence. Almost three seconds this time. Eventually Barry asked, “ _ How dangerous is he _ ?”

Bruce grimaced. In terms of raw power, he didn’t know what Vince’s upper bounds were. The boy could probably fry a person alive. He could certainly injure and maybe even kill himself. The shattered light bulbs were insignificant when compared to that fact. “Currently, he poses a potentially lethal risk to himself and others.”

Another couple seconds of silence, and Bruce was starting to get antsy. Barry said,  _ “I feel sick even suggesting this, but it sounds like his power is more of a disability than a gift. You could…have him wear an inhibitor collar.” _

It was Bruce’s turn to be silent. He’d heard how painful it was for a meta to wear an inhibitor collar. He’d seen for himself how desperate and anxious Barry became when he had to wear one. However, there was a possibility that Vince’s anxiety would decrease with the knowledge that he was no longer a ticking time bomb.

It wasn’t an option Bruce had let himself consider before, because the idea of inhibitor collars on innocent kids seemed sick to him. Especially the ones with the shock function. But that was before he’d encountered a meta who couldn’t learn how to control their abilities with enough training. “I’ll consider it,” Bruce said, “But it’s not a viable long term solution.” 

_ “I agree. God, do I agree with that,” _ Barry said, “ _ But if they wind up staying for longer than expected, genetic surgeries have really advanced in the past few years.” _

“This situation is a little unprecedented,” Bruce said, “But I’ll keep that in mind.”

_ “Okay, Bruce. It is two in the morning, and I need to be at work in five hours. I’ll text you tomorrow sometime to check in. Maybe Wally and I could drop by at some point. _ ”

“The boys need to settle in first. They’re still injured and reeling from the news. Well, at least Vince is. Chad is…not reacting at all. I’ll let you know when they’re up for visitors.” 

_ “Right. Have fun with that, man. Goodnight.” _

“Good morning,” Bruce corrected, then ended the call.

Now he had to go fix the cave’s electricity. 

All the boys in the medbay were on the verge of sleep when the cave’s lights flicked on again. Well, all the boys except Chad. He was wide awake, leaning stiffly against his pillows and watching the room. Dick on the other hand was draped across his chair like it was a hammock and struggling to keep his eyes open. Jason had dozed off twice, but jerked awake both times when his head fell off his hand. Vince was drooling on his pillow, but when the lights turned on he opened his eyes and let out an adorable yawn, stretching his arms above his heads like a cat. 

Dick twisted into a normal sitting position, and Jason straightened himself to appear at least half awake while they waited for Bruce to return. The man pushed his way through the curtain a few minutes later, holding something beneath his cape, “I got the power working.”

“That was evident,” Jason drawled, “Whatcha got there?” 

Batman lifted his arm, revealing a large dark ring gripped in his hand. Dick recognized the device half a second before his younger brother, “Bruce, is that really necessary?”

“What—Oh,” As soon as Jason realized what it was, he understood. Making sure Silver didn’t fry himself was number one priority right now, and this solved that.

“It’s temporary,” Bruce said, making his way over to Vince. He held out the device for the boy to see, “It’s called an inhibitor collar. It will suppress your powers. There was a shock function intended for keeping prisoners in control, but I disabled it.”

Vince took the collar and turned it over in his hands. “These don't exist where I'm from. I've never even heard of something like it." He examined it for a couple more moments, then looked up at Bruce, "What if I drain the battery? Or make it explode?”

“You won’t,” Bruce said with the same unwavering certainty he exercised as Batman, “Once it activates, you can’t. It will block your ability completely.”

The hope in Vince’s eyes broke Jason’s heart. The boy lifted the collar back up to Bruce, “How do I put it on?”

Bruce took the device out of Vince's small hands and sat down on the edge of the bed. He opened the collar, and Vince pushed his hair out of the way. The collar made a  _ click _ when Bruce latched it into place, and three red lights blinked to life on the front. "You can take it off whenever you want," Bruce explained, then pointed to a small button on the back that was usually disabled, "Just press here."

Vince felt for the button, then let his hand drop. He moved his head from side to side, and forward and backward. He tugged at it a little, showing he had about a finger's width of give. "Thank you."

Bruce grimaced and avoided the words  _ you're welcome _ in his response. "This is temporary. I have an idea for a less conspicuous design—What do you think of a bracelet?"

"Sounds cool." 

"I’ll start working on it tomorrow." Bruce shifted so he could address Chad and Vince together, "For now, Alfred has prepared you both rooms upstairs, and it's nearly five in the morning.”

From that point forward, getting the boys into bed had been an ordeal. Alfred needed to check Vince over again now that he was awake. Other than the burns, everything seemed to be in order for Vince. The butler gave him strict orders not to walk on the leg, which Vince almost accidentally violated ten minutes later. Alfred told Bruce to schedule appointments for them both with Dr. Thompkins, which Bruce added to his rapidly growing list of To-Dos. 

Jason carried Vince upstairs. Chad had opted to walk, which was understandable. Vince had stared around the house in complete awe as he was carried through it, absently playing with the inhibitor collar around his neck. “Is it uncomfortable, kiddo?” Bruce asked.

“Just getting used to it,” Vince responded.

Bruce managed to dig up some of Tim’s old pajamas for Vince, and some of Jason’s old pajamas for Chad. He explained there were other kids in the house, and that he would introduce them tomorrow afternoon. The boys were to sleep as late as they could, but they were welcome to come downstairs whenever they woke up. Bruce was in the room just down the hall, and Dick was next to him. Jason would be directly across the hall from them in his own room. They could always wake up one of those three if they needed anything. 

Vince fell asleep again before his head hit the pillow. Chad laid himself down robotically, resting his arms down by his sides and closing his eyes. His breathing deepened and evened out a split second later. The rigidity of his body reminded Bruce of the way Damian used to sleep when he first left the League. 

Bruce ushered his too oldest children out of Chad’s room and instructed them to go to sleep too. He could tell they were just as tired as he was because neither even complained about staying the night. When their doors shut behind them, Bruce made his way into his own room and collapsed on the bed in full costume. It was a blatant violation of protocol, but Alfred could scold him for it later. Right now it was time to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! What do you guys think about Chad and Vince?


	4. There Is A Kid Crying In The Guest Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, sorry it's been so long. I'm sort of rushing to post this as I head out for work, so let me know if there's anything glaringly wrong.

Bruce woke to knocking on his door. Rapid, incessant knocking. The door opened before he had the chance to tell whoever it was to come in. He rolled over in his bed, wiping a hand over his face, “Tim? What’s wrong?”

“There’s a kid crying in the guest room,” Tim sounded vaguely panicked, prompting Bruce to sit up straighter, “Bruce, there wasn’t a kid in the guest bedroom when I went to bed.” The statement was a challenge and a question.

Bruce rolled onto his feet, reaching for a change of clothes—he was still in his bat-suit. “Which guest room?” 

“The blue one.”

Chad's. “Thanks. Head downstairs, Alfred knew we were planning on sleeping in late, so there should still be hot food." The wall clock said noon. That was earlier than he'd expected, honestly. God, he needed more sleep. He stepped into the bathroom to change and closed the door behind him. 

Tim made a noise in his throat that came off as indignant. “Bruce, there’s a kid—”

Bruce’s voice was muffled through the door, “I know. Downstairs, Tim. I promise I’ll explain everything. Bring Damian and Cass with you.”

A couple minutes later, Bruce emerged from the bathroom in sweat pants and a t-shirt. Tim was gone. Bruce moved down the hall towards the guest room he’d put Chad to sleep in. Sure enough, he could hear a quiet sobbing coming from behind the closed door. He lifted his hand and knocked quietly. 

The crying cut off suddenly. "Chad?" Bruce asked kindly, "Is it okay if I come in, kiddo?"

"Yes," came the croaky response a few seconds later, so Bruce turned the doorknob and entered the room slowly. 

The early afternoon sun streamed through the open blinds. The bed was made, and Chad wore the same clothing he had on the night before, only now it was clean and free of wrinkles. Alfred was a saint. 

Chad stood in front of one of the windows, watching Bruce enter with red eyes. His cheeks were blotchy and tear-stained, and there was a bit of snot dripping out of his nose. He stood straighter, stiffer as Bruce entered the room, so the man opted to keep his distance. Bruce gestured to the desk chair near the door to ask if it was okay to sit, and Chad nodded tightly. 

"I take it you turned your feelings back on?" Bruce said as he took the seat. 

Another nod. 

"Does this always happen when you do that?" 

Chad shook his head, moving to sit on the bed, "It was different...I’m not really sure what went wrong. I think I'm…this is strange, but I feel scared." 

Bruce nodded, looking out the window to see where Chad had been staring. There was a nice view of the gardens, and a little ways further he could see the start of the path that led to his parent's graves. "Being afraid is okay. What happened—is happening—to you  _ is _ scary. It happened to me once, and it was one of the scariest things in my whole life." 

Chad latched onto that, "Really? How did you get back?" 

"I was lucky," Bruce said, suddenly regretting this path of conversation. He couldn’t explain this well enough right now. He didn’t want to give the kid a false hope, so he went with the simplest explanation that wouldn’t get Chad’s hopes up. "There was a device that was programmed to go between that dimension and this one. We don't have one for your dimension, but we're hoping to make one soon so we can send you home." 

"Oh."

“We’ll talk more about that later, I promise. But for now, are you feeling up to breakfast?”

Chad sniffed and closed his eyes for a second, his eyes scrunching up in concentration. Bruce didn’t quite know what the kid was doing, but he waited patiently anyways. A couple seconds later, the blotches on Chad’s face faded away like they were being sucked into his skin. The tear tracks disappeared similarly, and the snot dried up. When all evidence of crying had been thoroughly purged, Chad reopened his eyes, took a steadying breath, and nodded. “I’m ready now.” 

Clearly, the kid had some issues with showing emotions too, not just feeling them. At least Chad trusted Bruce enough to not hide the tears when he'd knocked. Bruce tucked those bits of information away in the mental file full of things he needed to keep an eye on, and stood up. He held the door open for Chad, and the two of them made their way into the hall. “Would you check on Vince with me?” Bruce asked. Bruce wouldn’t wake Vince up if he was still asleep, but if he was awake, he probably needed to eat. 

Chad nodded. 

They walked down the hall, and Bruce knocked on the door of Vince’s room, “Vince? Are you awake? It’s Bruce.”

“Yeah,” came the small call from inside.

“Chad’s with me, can we come in?”

“Um.”

“Are you okay?” Chad asked sharply, cutting Bruce off from asking the same question. 

Bruce was surprised, if only by the fact that Chad seemed to be able to read emotions much better than he was able to process them. Or perhaps that wasn’t the case at all. Maybe he gleaned some information with his abilities that Bruce couldn’t access at all. He glanced at the boy and raised an eyebrow.

“His heartbeat is going very fast,” Chad supplied, focused on the door. He seemed anxious to open it, but was restraining himself.

Bruce turned back to the door, and asked in a much more soothing voice, “Vince, is everything alright?” 

“Uh, not really.”

“Are you decent?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’m coming in,” Bruce pushed the door open gently, peering into the room. Vince was sitting a few feet away from the bed, in the middle of the floor, his face screwed up in consternation. His silver hair was sticking out at odd angles, and his borrowed pajamas were rumpled like he had just gotten out of his unmade bed. He was fidgeting with the inhibitor collar around his neck. Bruce noted that there were crutches leaning against the bedside table, where Alfred must have left them. Crutches that Vince had apparently elected to ignore. “What are you doing on the floor, buddy?”

Vince’s frown deepened, “I can’t stand up.” 

The kid wasn’t supposed to be walking on his burned foot anyways, but ‘not supposed to’ and ‘can’t’ were two very different things. Bruce stepped into the room and crouched at Vince’s side, leaving Chad to stand in the doorway. “Can you move your legs at all?” 

In response, Vince wiggled his legs. “It’s like they’re just really, really weak. My good leg gave out when I tried to stand up," He swallowed, closed his eyes, and took a very deep breath. He let it out slowly, then repeated the process.

When Vince reopened his eyes, Bruce took his uninjured foot in his hand and gave a gentle squeeze, “Can you feel that?”

Vince nodded. "I can crawl too."

Something in Bruce’s chest loosened. “Good. I’m going to call Dr. Thompkins and see about having your appointment moved up to today. This is probably a side effect from the electrocution…” He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, “For now, is it okay if I carry you down to breakfast?”

Vince nodded, and Bruce gathered the boy up in his arms like Jason had the night before. Vince wrapped one arm around Bruce’s neck, while his other hand was occupied with the inhibitor collar. Bruce really needed to see about redesigning that as soon as possible. 

They reached the kitchen in a couple of minutes. Bruce entered first, Vince on his hip, and Chad trailed in behind them. The rest of the family was already seated around the breakfast table in varying stages of wakefulness, excluding Jason, who must have taken off sometime in the morning. Tim stared at Bruce like he had grown two heads. “ _ Two?” _ the young CEO hissed, “You somehow procured  _ two _ kids between three AM and noon?” 

Dick dragged his eyes up from his scrambled eggs to look at his brother “Be nice, Tim.”

Tim whipped around to glare at Dick, “A little warning might’ve been  _ nice _ .”

Dick sighed, and went back to poking his eggs. Tim shoved another piece of bacon into his mouth and chewed passive aggressively. Or maybe just aggressively. Bruce reminded himself that Tim might have been the CEO of a fortune 500 company, but he was also a seventeen year old with reactive attachment disorder and abandonment issues. Highly functional, but only because he was good at hiding his baggage. 

Cass ignored Tim in favor of watching the Chad and Vince. Bruce could see the wheels turning in her brain, taking in the minutiae of the boys’ body language and expressions. She patted the empty chair next to her lightly. Bruce tapped Chad’s shoulder and directed him to the empty seat. 

“I agree with Drake,” Damian said, fidgeting slightly when all eyes turned to him. “What? I am merely saying that we should have been warned. Who are these children anyways, father? Why is that one wearing an inhibitor collar?”

Dick pulled out the chair on his other side, and Bruce gratefully settled his passenger in it. He ignored the 'children' comment—Damian was only a year older than them, but he referred to his seventeen year old brother as a child too. “This is Vince. He’s been having difficulties with his ability.” Keep the explanation simple, make it clear the topic was not open for discussion at the breakfast table.

Damian was at least aware enough to not comment on the fact that Vince was a metahuman, even if Bruce could read the suspicion in his frown clear as day. He gestured across the table, “And that is Chad. They will both be staying with us for a short time.”

“How was the silver one injured?” Damian asked next, eyeing Vince’s bandages.

“You can ask _ Vince _ that question, and he does not have to answer if he does not want to.” Brurce looked at Vince for that second part.

Damian turned and raised an expectant eyebrow at Vince. 

“I, uh—” Vince glanced at Bruce for a split second, before looking at Damian, “I was electrocuted.”

“Oh,” Damian said. He gave Vince a once over, eyeing the bandages again. “It must have been an extraordinarily high voltage if it injured you so gravely.”

Vince furrowed his eyebrows, “I mean, I guess.” Vince glanced up at Dick, unsure of how to continue. Dick just shrugged and scooped more eggs into his mouth.

Damian turned to Chad, “What is your surname?”

“Taylor,” Chad answered shortly. His face wasn’t as blank as it had been last night, but it certainly wasn’t as emotive as it had been five minutes ago. Bruce made a mental note to talk to the boy about it later Maybe they could test out Barry’s advice and go for a run together.

“Taylor,” Damian repeated, “Are you also injured, Taylor?”

“I am not.”

Damian stared at him for a couple seconds. Bruce wasn't quite sure what he was expecting his youngest to say, but it wasn't a semi-approving, “Good."

Alfred swept into the room, three more plates filled with eggs and bacon in his arms. He placed them in front of Vince, Chad and Bruce. “Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth,” Vince said softly.

“Thank you,” Chad echoed.

“You are very welcome,” Alfred answered, picking up Cass's plate and leaving.

By the time Alfred was gone, Vince was already gobbling down his third overflowing bite. He held his fork more like a shovel than a eating utensil. No one at the table commented on it, but Damian definitely eyed him with confusion more than once. Tim's glanced over a few times, face unreadable.

Bruce would also have to talk to Vince about...well, food. He needed to know he was always welcome to snacks in the kitchen. The fact that he didn't have steady access to food in his world was becoming increasingly clear. 

But that was a discussion for later. For now, Damian had brought up a topic that Bruce had completely forgotten last night, “Vince, I don’t think I ever asked your last name either.”

Vince froze with a full mouth and his fork halfway to his mouth. His eyes slowly rose up in a way that would have been comical if it weren’t for the panic in them. It seemed the topic of last names was a sore one for Vince, which made sense if the kid had been on the streets like Bruce suspected. Maybe his family kicked him out. Maybe he never had one. “We can talk about it later, if you’d like.” 

Vince gulped down his half-chewed food, locking eyes with Bruce. “No. My last name is Reynolds,” he said firmly. Confidently. Like he had been rehearsing it. There was not a bone in Bruce’s body that believed that was Vince’s legal last name, but if it’s what he wanted to go by, so be it. 

Cass reached across the table and placed a hand on Vince’s arm solemnly. Her body language said  _ you are strong.  _ Bruce made a mental note to talk to his daughter about that later. So many mental notes. So many conversations later. Vince smiled slightly, despite his confusion. 

Damian was meeting the Titans that afternoon, so he excused himself as soon as he finished his plate. Dick reluctantly pushed himself up, patting Vince's silver head when the boy looked up at him with wide eyes, "Sorry, kiddos, but I have to get back to Blüdhaven before my shift in, like, an hour. I'll definitely come visit soon, though."

Chad simply waved goodbye, entirely nonplussed, but Vince had actual tears in his eyes. "Bye," he managed to say with a semi-stable voice.

"Bye, Vince," Dick said, smiling. 

They ate the rest of their breakfast in peace. 

When all their plates had been cleared away, Tim tried to leave the dining room, but Bruce started speaking before he made it out, "Tim, Cass. I have some work I need to get done. Would you be able to show Chad and Vince around? Maybe hang out and watch a movie?”

“Bruce, I have work to do, why can’t Cass do it alone?”

Bruce ignored the way Tim ignored the language barrier between Cass and the boys. “Would you be able work with a movie on in the background?”

“I mean, yeah, but—”

“Then please,” Bruce sighed, “Please help me out.”

Tim’s mouth snapped shut, he looked between the two boys sitting at the table and asked, “Fine. Com’on.”

Cass rolled her eyes, but stood up. Chad followed suit. Vince pushed his seat back from the table, but Bruce stopped him before he could get any further. “Vince, I think until we talk to Dr. Thompkins, a wheelchair might be best.” 

Vince looked up at him in surprise, like he’d completely forgotten about his inability to stand over the past half hour. “Oh. Yeah, I guess. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Bruce said, standing up, “We’ve got a wheelchair in one of the front closets I believe. I’ll go fetch it.” 

When he returned to the dining room with the wheelchair, Cass was in the middle of planning out their tour, signing ideas with rapid enthusiasm. Tim had begrudgingly become involved in the process, and was asking the boys what they wanted to see the most. Chad wanted to see the gym. Vince was interested in the gardens.

Bruce helped Vince shift into the wheelchair. It was just a high end standard wheelchair that the family used around the manor so Leslie or Alfred wouldn’t keep them on bedrest for weeks at a time while recovering from their more serious injuries. Because it was originally intended to be used by Bruce, then later an adult-sized Dick, the seat was far too large for Vince’s petite frame. He reached his arms around to grab the wheels and smiled up at Bruce, “Thanks.” 

Bruce ruffled his hair, “Have fun. I’ll be downstairs if you guys need anything.”

Bruce went straight to the kitchen to find Alfred while he was still doing the breakfast dishes. He explained Vince’s situation, how he couldn’t walk. Alfred told Bruce to contact Leslie and have the boys’ appointments moved up, if at all possible. It was what Bruce had been planning on doing in the first place, but having Alfred’s support and reinforcement made everything easier, especially when making decisions about the kids. “Thank you, Alfred.”

Alfred smiled warmly, “My pleasure.”

Bruce left the kitchen and made his way down into the cave. He sat down in front of the bat-computer, and called the Watchtower. Captain Atom was on watch duty right now, and the Flash would be taking over after his shift for his day job was over. The screen blinked to life, showing Nathaniel’s metallic face. Bruce kept his camera off, as he wasn’t in his cowl. “Batman,” Nathaniel greeted shortly. 

“Captain Atom. I need information on interdimensional travel.”

The man’s eyes narrowed, “Yes. The Flash sent over some data that he said you would be interested in. _ I, _ however, will not be assisting you.” 

“Atom, your knowledge of the Bleed and experience—”

“No. Whatever you’ve gotten yourself into, I don’t want any part in it. Dimensional travel is dangerous and stupid. I won’t help you destroy another universe, or yourself, or both.”

A window on his screen popped up containing a file titled “multiverse stuff for batman”. Bruce more or less expected this response from Nathaniel. The man had certainly been through some shit with the “Let me at least explain the situation.” 

Atom gestured for Bruce to continue. 

Bruce did explain, using sparing details and no names. He talked about the dimension hopper who dropped the boys in the cave, and the need to return them home. He had no way of knowing how their presence impacted this universe. For all he knew, they could cause an apocalypse in a week, so this really was a Justice League problem as much as it was Batman’s. He was fairly sure the boys wouldn’t cause too many problems. Their universe sounded so incredibly different from this one, but he didn’t mention that part to Nathaniel. By the time he finished his explanation, he could see Captain Atom’s resolve breaking. "Captain Atom, it is the duty of every leaguer to protect and assist everybody, but particularly the innocent. These boys are the closest thing to innocent I've seen in a long time." 

“I…damnit. Fine. I will help research with the Flash. But that is as far as my involvement will go. It is too risky otherwise.”

“That’s all I need.”

Captain Atom grunted. “Even if we are able to procure a safe way for the kids to be transported home, we need to know where home is. We will need as much information about their dimension as they know.” 

“Understood. I’ll start interviewing them today, and I’ll send over the first files tonight.”

“You don’t have to…” He sighed, “There’s no rush, Batman. This will likely take a while, if we want to get it right. The interviews can wait for a few days at least, probably more. The kids should take it easy. They’re…What they’re going through can be hell.” 

“Thank you, Captain Atom. I’ll keep that in mind.” He ended the call and sat back in the chair. 

He pulled up the security footage of the manor and checked the motion sensors to find the kids. Dick told him spying on his kids was weird and overprotective. He was wrong. It wasn’t weird. He was just checking up on them. Making sure no one had died. They all had experiences to back up that particular strain of paranoia. Everything this family had been through warranted at least a little overprotectiveness.

He found them in the library. Tim was pointing at one of the bookshelves as Chad listened to whatever he was saying with intense focus (Bruce kept the audio off. He did have  _ some _ boundaries). Vince had curled up his legs to sit criss-cross applesauce in the wheelchair and was letting Cass roll him around. He looked a little overwhelmed by the conversation, but Cass distracted him by pointing out the stained-glass windows. 

They’re alive. Safe. 

Vince reached up to fidget with the inhibitor collar, and Bruce grimaced. The image of Vince wearing that collar conjured images of half-starved children locked in cages, on their way to fight in wars they’d never even heard of before. Vince’s shaggy silver hair and fleshless bones jutting out from at all angles didn’t help the comparison. The Justice League had taken down too many and not enough metahuman trafficking rings. Batman himself had been directly involved in the downfall of twelve. Vince looked so fragile, too similar to those abducted children. The true opposite of Chad, who looked like the picture of health and normality through the lens of a security camera. Bruce closed the video feed. 

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his contacts. The line dialed once before it was picked up. A smooth voice answered, “To what do I owe the pleasure, Bruce?”

“Ah, yeah, I guess it’s been too long, hasn’t it?” Bruce said apologetically, “Sorry, Lucius. And sorry for calling on the weekend.”

“I’m working actually, so no worries. Actually, I’ve got a meeting in fifteen minutes, so…” 

“Right. I have an idea I need R&D working on as soon as possible. If it could be done in the next couple weeks, that would be great.” 

“Hm. Right. And would this ‘idea’ be for the general public, or for you-know-what?”

“Both, actually. The urgency is more for my personal life, but after it’s been developed, it may be able to help a lot of people.”

Lucius was silent on the other line, waiting for him to elaborate. 

“It’s an inhibitor collar that isn’t…you know. A collar. I was thinking maybe a wrist band? But something will inhibit powers without dehumanizing the wearer. So, no shock feature.”

“I…You didn’t suddenly develop meta powers overnight, did you? I heard that's been happening to some people…”

“What? No, Lucius, it’s not for me. I promise I’ll explain when you have more time. But can you work on it?”

“Of course. It’s a good idea, really. I can see a lot of benefits for metas coming out of trafficking, maybe for underage delinquents and the like. I have to go, but I’ll put together the project team later today. Maybe Tim would like to join it?” 

“I’ll let you ask him that.”

“Hm. Okay. I’ll talk to you soon, Bruce.”

“Bye, Lucius.”

Bruce hung up and opened his messages. He scrolled until he found his conversation with Leslie. Their last messages had been early that morning when Bruce had arranged for her to come check on the boys later that week. He’d been confident that Alfred would be able to handle anything that came up before then, but Vince’s inability to walk was not what he’d planned for. Bruce typed out his next message and pressed send. 

_ Bruce: Leslie, is there any chance you could come today instead? _

_ Leslie: not likely why _

_ Bruce: Vince can't walk. Or stand. _

_ Bruce: He does have feeling in his legs and can move them, though. _

_ Leslie: any pain _

_ Bruce: He didn't mention anything.  _

_ Leslie: cant come today, but ill be there tomorrow 9am _

_ Bruce: Thank you. _

Leslie didn't reply. That was fine. Everything was sorted. For now. Bruce took a long breath. Then he pulled up one of his ongoing case files on the computer and began the process of making up all the work he’d missed for the past week, resisting the urge to pull up the security footage again. The boys were fine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Let me know what your favorite part was.


End file.
